<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Slow Hands by boyggenius</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629042">Slow Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyggenius/pseuds/boyggenius'>boyggenius</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Romance, F/M, Minor Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:13:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyggenius/pseuds/boyggenius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On an unassuming Friday evening, you are convinced to tag along with a friend and attend a guest lecture on criminal psychology, the speaker none other than Dr. Spencer Reid. In one fell swoop, your interest in criminal justice shifts from pinning down criminals in the courtroom, to hunting them down in the field. Destiny is a finnicky thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Boy Meets Girl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello there, here’s the beginning of a multi-chapter fic that i’ve had in mind for a while. honestly, this is very off the cuff and while i do have some things planned out beforehand, i'm not stressing over canon compliance and fitting super strictly to the show's timeline. please enjoy and feel free to send one shot fic requests to my tumblr @ boyggenius &lt;3</p><p>recommended listening for this chapter: slow hands by interpol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Yeah, but nobody searches,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nobody cares somehow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When the loving that you've wasted </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Comes raining from a hapless cloud, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I might stop and look upon your face</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Disappear in the sweet, sweet gaze, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>See the living that surrounds me </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dissipate in a violet blaze...”</em>

</p>
<hr/><p>"You want me to attend a guest speaker event with you about <em>sexual sadism</em>?"<br/>
“Well, when you say it like that, of course it sounds bad!”</p><p>You shouldn't have been so surprised, but there you sat at a round lunch table with your fellow classmate Margo amidst the cafeteria of your university. Fridays on campus always had a buzzing energy to them; the fraternities would gear up for their weekend ragers, people were excited to go out and have fun, others were fine with having a day or two to relax. Weekends always came with the expectation of something happening, but this time, you actually hadn’t thought about it. Hunkering down in bed with a good book and a vinyl spinning along on your record player was your favorite way of relaxing. Margo has been your roommate since the first day of freshman year, and someone you considered a close friend, even if she could see through your bullshit with scary x-ray-like precision. The two of you were at least halfway through college by now, and with general education classes finished at last, you were both happy to fully dedicate your time to what your majors actually were. Margo was deeply entrenched in her study of psychology, and had shown you a virtual flyer that was sent from the Psych department of your uni.</p><p>
  <em>‘Introducing Dr. Spencer Reid, acclaimed Behavioral Analyst and Profiler for the FBI, as a guest speaker on the subject of criminal psychology. Open to all students, faculty, and staff, Dr. Reid will be discussing topics related to the study of the behavior and mannerisms of serial killers, such as the Macdonald triad, possible causes, and sexual sadism.’</em>
</p><p>It was interesting, you couldn’t lie. After all, your major was criminal justice, and you could see the obvious benefit of delving into the minds of criminals in full detail. Plus you knew Margo had a bit of social anxiety, and going to events solo was just not something she could handle. Making her sweat a bit was always good fun though.</p><p>Margo poked a stiff finger at your chest as your eyes read over the flyer again. “See, It’s not only about sexual sadism! It has a lot of intersect with psychology and criminology, since the BAU’s whole job is literally studying and tracking down serial killers. I thought it’d be super interesting,” she rambled before avoiding eye contact with a huff, “Plus...I don’t wanna go alone. Maria already flaked on me.”</p><p>“There it is,” you couldn’t hold back your laughter at her attempt to convince you. The brunette rolled her eyes at you, but you gave her a smile and patted her shoulder. “Yes, I’ll go, alright? I don’t have plans anyways. This should be a fun Friday night.”</p><p>The girl let out a small whoop and bumped shoulders with you, obviously elated, and you give her a smile in return. Your afternoon classes were soon approaching, and so you finally gathered up your things from the lunch table and promised to meet Margo back in your dorm room to get ready afterwards.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>You had attended your fair share of guest lectures, but this one was already gearing up to be the most interesting so far in your college education. For one thing, the auditorium was packed with young students, older folks, and faculty alike. Serial killers were a hot topic, always drawing interest, always inspiring conversation. You could say you felt the same, though the excitement that some folks had when so casually discussing the murder of innocent people left you feeling slightly put off at times. You wouldn’t even let your mind drift to the fanaticism around some famous killers. Walking along behind Margo, you watched her bob of dark hair swish as she maneuvered through the crowd of people, pulling you by the book bag strap down the aisle of the seats to find a good spot near the front.</p><p>“Mr. FBI brought out a crowd tonight, eh?” She waggled her eyebrows at you as you took your seats. You simply shrugged at that, taking a peek at the time. There was still a few minutes before the presentation began, and so far, the stage was empty and the guest speaker was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t been pictured on the flyer, and you were sure Margo was probably wondering what he was like as well. Curiosity and anticipation laid deep in your chest like a warm stone; you had the odd feeling that something was going to happen tonight. What it was, you weren’t sure, and so you ignored the feeling.</p><p>“Sure does look like it,” you replied quietly as the lights over the audience’s seating began to dim. The rest of the attendees took their seats as a hush of silence swept over the room.</p><p>What you were seeing took a minute to be understood in your brain. At first glance, the man who walked on stage was not at all who you were expecting; you could have mistaken him for a fellow college student, he couldn’t have been five or six years older than you. Tall and lean, swathed in warm brown tones, Dr. Spencer Reid had an air of confidence as he stood before the podium that made you certain he very much was who the flyer said he was. It was like your curiosity was doused in kerosene and set alight with a pack of matches. Even from a few yards away, you could tell his longer brown curls must’ve been soft and airy. His brow was furrowed as he adjusted the papers in a folder set upon the podium, and just barely, you could see him biting the inside of his lip. <em>Maybe he’s nervous in front of big crowds,</em> you thought quietly, already a bit sympathetic, <em>I definitely know the feeling.</em></p><p>Sometimes, you wondered if Margo could read your mind. The girl leaned closer to you, whisper yelling in your ear, “Oh my <em>god</em> I thought he was gonna be, like, waaay older. This guy is fuckable! He’s tall and educated, that’s all I need in life.” Her crass words pulled you out of your amazed stupor for a minute, and you choked back a laugh, trying to be polite. You didn’t avert your gaze and you did your best to not move your mouth as you whispered back to Margo, “You are being such a rude audience member right now, get it together.”</p><p>The two of you were silenced as Dr. Reid cleared his throat, ready to begin.</p><p>“Good afternoon, and welcome everyone, I thank you all for coming. Before I begin, I wanted to thank both the president of the University of Virginia, as well as the head of the psychology department for inviting me to speak today. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I am a Profiler for the Behavioral Analyst Unit for the FBI. My job, in simple terms, is studying and hunting down serial killers. Our team is dedicated to understanding the behavior and psychology of an unsub, or unknown subject, in the cases that we handle. With this understanding, we are able to predict their behaviors, what they will do next, what they could be thinking, in order to capture them and prevent them from doing anymore harm.” His words were clear, and he gave the crowd a quick smile before picking up a small remote. He fiddled with it for a moment and huffed before the stage’s screen lowered over the curtain. The projector overhead clicked to life, and Dr. Reid’s presentation began in earnest.</p><p>- </p><p>An hour later, and as you sat up in your seat, you could feel your back pop in a few different places. You had spent the better part of the hour leaning forward, chin in hand as Dr. Reid’s words washed over you, a mix of danger and excitement and morbid curiosity. His line of work seemed…gruesome. Becoming a lawyer was one thing; you knew there was a layer of separation from what was good and what was just in a courtroom. Evidence was all photographic and written. The BAU, however, stepped over the threshold and descended into hell itself. The things they had seen, you couldn’t fathom it. And it was there, in Dr. Reid’s presence. The way he carried himself, the gun on his hip, the weight of his words and the slight sag of his shoulders as he discussed famous serial killers and their victims. These were not merely stories for him, but lived experiences. He had talked to the devil and then some.</p><p>And yet, despite the atrocities they had seen, the look on his face when he described a particular case he had worked on made you understand that there was nothing else in the world he could imagine himself doing. Being able to return victims alive to their families was nothing short of a miracle, but it was a possibility, and so their work had to be done. You admired that.</p><p>You blinked, and the crowd around you was clapping as Dr. Reid nodded and stepped offstage. Margo was positively buzzing at your side, grabbing your arm as she stood and tried to hurry you out of your seat. “That was just- so- utterly fascinating! I have to ask him questions, I just have to. Let’s go before he gets swamped, c’mon, c’mon.” You nodded without arguing back, a nervous smile on your face. “I heard you, relax!”</p><p>Margo had been right, he seemed to be swamped with plenty of audience members asking questions after the lecture, and so you and Margo took a few minutes to freshen up in the women’s bathroom. You scrutinized yourself in the mirror, suddenly much more self conscious about first impressions and whatnot. For your outfit, you had played it safe. A dark purple button up blouse, black jeans, and ballet flats. Nothing too fancy, but still looking as if you put effort in. Leaning close to the mirror, you pulled out mascara from your bookbag and swept it over your eyelashes, and rubbed some tinted lip balm on as well. That’s good enough, right? <em>You won’t even be talking to him,</em> you reasoned with yourself, <em>He’s just one man. One ridiculously intelligent man with an IQ of 187, apparently. No biggie.</em></p><p>“I can hear the thoughts whirling around in that big ol’ noggin,” Margo chirped as she stepped out of the bathroom stall to wash her hands. “You’re overthinking it. I’m nervous too, but our questions and discussion will be purely educational, if that helps. We’ve got this, yeah?” She gave you a hopeful smile and held up a hand for you to high five.</p><p>Her high five was earned, her words soothing your nerves just a bit. You shouldn’t care so much about a man you were barely going to speak to. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ve got this.” Your words were more for yourself than Margo, but nonetheless, she pulled you along to greet the man of the hour.</p><p>There were only a few people lingering nearby, less than before, but Margo set her shoulders back and raised her chin and walked up to Dr. Reid with you in tow. You couldn’t even sputter to her to <em>wait her turn, god damn it</em>, because she was already greeting him with a wide smile and a notepad in hand.</p><p>“Dr. Reid, my name is Margo Takamoto, thank you so much for coming to speak here today. My friend and I found your lecture so fascinating.” Her words were calm and polite, but you could feel her grip on your arm tighten and she turned her head to look back at you. You were going to kill her for this later, you swore it on your mother. Stepping forward, you smiled and held out your hand for him to shake. He shook your hand, a quick motion that made your skin feel hot at the sudden touch. His fingers were long and slightly calloused, and you could feel the veins in his hands. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You all but breathed out, nerves mounting.</p><p>“The pleasure is all mine,” He responded, and tilted his head slightly, hazel eyes still focused on you. With a sudden flush, you realized he hadn’t shaken Margo’s hand, and slowly flexed the hand he had held once it was back to your side. “And your name was…?”</p><p>It took a second for your brain to catch up. You were usually never so affected in one on one interactions, but he had a presence that left you slightly speechless. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s Y/n L/n.”</p><p>“No need to be sorry at all. I’m glad you both found the lecture interesting, I was worried for a minute that I had lost some of the crowd.” Reid reached a hand up to the leather strap of his cross body bag, fiddling with it. You could’ve sworn he was nervous, with the same tics that he had shown a glimpse of onstage.</p><p>“Interesting is an understatement, I’m a psychology major so I could read about this all day.” Margo grinned, and you finally found your voice after a minute. “Um, yeah, I thought it was just amazing learning about the good work your team does. I’m a criminal justice major, and I honestly hadn’t even considered this a career option.” You tucked your hair behind your ear, and for a minute, you swore his eyes followed the motion. In the back of your mind, you got the distinct feeling that Dr. Reid didn’t get very much attention from women, but there was nothing creepy or odd about his mannerisms. He seemed like the type who was too intelligent to socially function.</p><p>Before he could reply, you spoke up again. “I believe you touched upon this in your lecture, but I still wanted to ask. What do you feel is the best part of your job, in its day to day aspect?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.</p><p>Dr. Reid crossed his arms for a minute, lost in thought, before responding. “Yes, I only briefly touched upon it, so I’d like to elaborate. I work with an amazing team of profilers,” He explained, and smiled at the thought of them all, “They’re all so accomplished in their own ways. Aaron Hotchner, our team leader for example, was a prosecutor before joining the BAU and he’s worked hard to get to where he is now. Another, David Rossi, he’s done extensive work studying serial killers before I was even born. He has various books out on said topic if either of you are still interested in learning more, they’re very good reads. Each one of them is incredible and talented in their own ways, we’re like a family. I couldn’t imagine doing this job without them alongside me.” He briefly rambled, hands moving away from the strap of his bag to gesture excitedly instead. It warmed your heart.</p><p>“If I may speak freely Dr. Reid, I believe they’d likely say the exact same about you.” You told him without thinking. Margo’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at you in surprise, and Reid’s expression was similar. He looked akin to a cat basking in the sunlight, warmed from such a compliment.</p><p>“What makes you say that, Y/n?” Reid asked, voice only a bit quieter now.</p><p>“Well, I mean, you speak about them with such care. The minute your team came up as a topic of discussion, you got excited, you moved your hands so happily. And I think you’re brilliant, if I do say so myself. It’s not hard to deduce.”</p><p>Dr. Reid looked away for a moment, as if unable to bear the weight of your gaze. He turned back to you with a sly smile. “Well, it looks like the tables have turned. You’re the one profiling me now.”</p><p>“It seems like it,” you smirked and shifted your weight from one foot to the other. </p><p>Margo, meanwhile, was stunned into silence. You were sure you’d get an earful from her later as you returned to your dorm. You basically just flirted with him?! How did that even happen!</p><p>The weighted silence between you both was interrupted by the beeping of a cell phone. Reid sighed and pulled out a silver flip phone, squinting at the small words on the screen, before stuffing it back into his pocket.</p><p>“Speak of the devil,” Dr. Reid adjusted his bag and stood up straight, “It truly was great meeting you both, I’m sorry to say that work beckons. Have a great night Ms. L/n, Ms. Takamoto.” He offered the both of you a quick wave before walking off.</p><p>Just as you predicted, Margo absolutely talked your ear off as you walked out of the auditorium, watching Reid as he crossed the parking lot to get into his car. If he thought you had missed the way he bit his bottom lip once his back was turned though, he was sorely mistaken.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Twice is a Coincidence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Only a few months after attending Dr. Reid’s guest lecture and you’ve decidedly changed your career path, sights set on the FBI. In the meantime, Dr. Reid ends up stumbling upon you in the most unexpected way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello everyone! here’s the next chapter, with maybe a bit more exciting content. i’ve got a good idea of where this is headed, so i’m planning for this to be around ten chapters! i hope yall enjoy, and pls feel free to send one shot requests to my tumblr @ boyggenius in the meantime &lt;3</p><p>recommended listening for this chapter: being so normal - peach pit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A few months later…</em>
</p><p>You still thought back to that guest lecture from time to time, and you had to give credit where credit was due. After meeting Dr. Reid, you were absolutely inspired by his intelligence and work ethic. It felt like the work they did was truly worth it, and the world of criminal psychology pulled you in. You had bought all of David Rossi’s books, read them and annotated your copies with rapt attention, and delved more into the academic teachings that other members of the BAU had offered to the world. The courtroom was engaging, that was certain, but this felt like something else entirely. If other people could not create change, then you would do it yourself.</p><p>It was the beginning of the next year’s fall semester, a few months shy of it being exactly a year since you had seen Dr. Reid. Starting junior year felt like a rite of passage. You felt more sure than ever about the career path you wanted to pursue, and even if you couldn’t work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you were still more than interested in working for the FBI. At first, you had wanted to become a lawyer not only because it seemed like a good career choice, but because your mother was an extremely accomplished lawyer back in your home state. It had only made sense to want to follow in her footsteps.</p><p>You just hadn’t gotten around to telling her about your new career path just yet. That conversation could be saved for another day.</p><p>The humid Virginia weather was doing you no favors as beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. You and Margo had made the decision to move off campus (damn were those dormitory fees expensive), living in a nearby apartment complex instead. Splitting the costs for an apartment made the financial toll more reasonable and you had happily gotten a part time job at a local bookstore. The apartment was in the perfect spot it seemed because you were able to travel to campus and work on public transit pretty comfortably. Maybe in the future, you could save up for your own car. For now though, you were happy with how the dominoes of your life were falling into place.</p><p>“Damn, did you pack bricks into these boxes?” Margo huffed as you unloaded boxes from the back of her father’s old truck. He had been kind enough to let you both borrow his truck for moving day, but was too busy with work to go and help you. You were a two-woman team tasked with carrying a sofa and various boxes up to your shared apartment on the third story floor. <em>This was so badly planned, I swear we share a handful of brain cells between each other.</em></p><p>“Books, actually!” You replied with a cheeky grin, two boxes towering in your arms as you stepped into the building’s wonderfully air conditioned lobby. The sign on the elevator made you stop in your tracks, however. “Seriously?! Out of order? Oh, we’re really getting our cardio workout done today!” You groaned, and Margo gave you a look that could kill.</p><p>“Sorry ladies!” You both turned your heads to the man working the front desk of your apartment building who had a sympathetic look on his face. If you recalled correctly, his name was Archer, and he had given you your apartment key the week before. “The elevator’s gonna be out of order til tomorrow likely.”</p><p>The two of you shrugged and told him not to worry. It was a daunting task, but it couldn’t be impossible, right?</p><p>The next hour was spent going up and down the flights of stairs, making good progress with all of the boxes and bags you had packed from your dorm. Truly, you hadn’t brought that much with you. Margo had told you that you could order a small dining table set from Ikea, and it’d be disassembled for you to put together once it was delivered. The same could be done for whatever other furniture you'd need. That sounded better than lugging a table and chairs up to the third floor. It was just the amount of going up and down the stairs that really took up your time.</p><p>In your distracted state, you numbly noticed the feeling of thunder underneath your feet. Something was coming from below, a rumbling not unlike an earthquake, that snapped you to your senses as you reached the open front door of your apartment. Voices echoed up the staircase from below, and you vaguely heard Archer give directions to the apartment down the hall from you to whomever was below.</p><p>“Do you hear that?” Margo asked from inside the apartment. The words died in your throat as you saw what was happening.</p><p>Hurrying up the stairs were men in bulletproof vests, the white letters FBI across their chest. Behind them was a SWAT team, and all of them walked with weapons at the ready, poised for anything. Leading the pack was a man you could’ve mistaken for a model in any other circumstance. Tall, Black, with a neatly trimmed small goatee and dark eyebrows. He walked down the hall with his gun in hand, but at the sight of you stunned like a deer in the headlights, he put on a comforting face and voice.</p><p>“Hi there, I’m sorry to scare you like this. My name is Derek Morgan, I’m with the FBI. By any chance, do you know if your neighbor Elliot Joel is home?”</p><p>You immediately shook your head, looking down the hall at the door the SWAT team was waiting to breach. “No, no I’m sorry, we’re barely moving in today.” You gestured to the box now at your feet, and behind you in the living room, Margo was watching with wide eyes. By now, other tenants were poking their heads out of their doors, curiosity piqued from the noise.</p><p>“That’s alright, honey, thank you. No need to worry about anything, we’re going to handle this, okay? Please, take a step back out of the hall into your apartment, it’s not safe.” </p><p>You were sure it must’ve been from his training, but the way Morgan was able to switch from intimidating FBI agent to a civil and comforting presence was impressive. He had immediately calmed you down, and you nodded wordlessly, pushing the box out of the way with your foot and waiting in the doorway. This was a firsthand experience of a lifetime, being able to see how the FBI worked in the field. As he walked to the front door of Elliot’s door, you noticed with shock that a familiar face was there in the mix. Standing with a gun in hand near the door was Dr. Spencer Reid himself, donning his own bulletproof vest and looking much more intense than the shy man you had met after the lecture.</p><p>“Holy shit Margo, it’s him!” You whisper yelled to your roommate, and she perched on the box (thankfully only full of books) to look over your head and peek around the doorjamb to watch the scene unfold.</p><p>“Oh my god, it is! This is actually crazy, are we living next to a psycho or something?”</p><p>“I mean, there’s no way we could have known.”</p><p>Your hushed discussion was drowned out by Morgan yelling for Elliot to open the door. They waited a beat for a response, and after a moment, the SWAT team breached the door and flooded into his apartment. Moments later and angry shouts filled the air, swears from agents and SWAT members alike. "Search this apartment up and down, check the fire escape!"</p><p><em>I could've sworn he was home</em>, you thought with a frown, <em>Elliot introduced himself to us when we got the apartment key. I saw him earlier when we got here, that had to be him.</em></p><p>There was a movement out of the corner of your eye, and from down the hall, you could see Elliot Joel peeking his head out of the utility closet of your complex's floor before breaking out into a full spring towards you down the hall. He was a thin, reedy man, barely any muscle to him at all. You couldn't even find your voice as he got closer, skittish eyes skirting over you before aiming at the staircase doorway as he tried to escape.</p><p>"That's him! He's out here!" Margo screamed.</p><p>You moved before you could think. The only instinct in your body screamed '<em>he can't get away with what he's done</em>,' and so right before he ran past your apartment door, you stuck your arm out and clotheslined him <em>hard</em>. He was so thin he barely stood a chance, knocking you back into the doorframe with the force of it. But, he dropped to the floor, feet in the air, and the back of his head bounced against the linoleum. It was the yelling of the other tenants that brought you out of your daze, pain blooming over your arm and shoulder from the move. "He's out here, she got him!"</p><p>Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid ran out of the door from the commotion, guns raised before both lowered their weapons in shock. Reid simply looked surprised, eyebrows nearly at his hairline, but Morgan donned a mix of confusion and approval. “Well I’ll be damned,” he holstered his gun and gave you a small nod of approval before flipping Elliot Joel onto his front. You would’ve appreciated the flex of his strong arms practically manhandling the unsub, wrenching his arms back to handcuff him before forcing him to stand up with ease. “That was a bold move, you’re lucky you didn’t get hurt. But good job, you helped us out here honey.” Morgan told you, and you practically glowed from the praise.</p><p>Dr. Reid came over to make sure you were alright, fingers skirting over your arm and shoulder, his touch as light as a feather as if you would break. It almost made you laugh, given the fact that you proved just the opposite in that very moment. “That was quite the stunt you pulled, Ms. L/n,” he said quietly before sparing a glance at Margo. “Hello again Ms. Takamoto, I didn’t expect to see you two again under these circumstances.” His voice was nonchalant as he made you rotate your arm and shoulder to make sure nothing was truly hurt. It was hard not to squirm or blush under his attention, now you were the one who couldn’t handle the weight of his gaze, the calluses of his fingers on the exposed skin of your shoulders. You almost thanked God himself for the hot weather today. </p><p>“Stunt? I made sure your unsub didn’t get away,” you replied coolly.. A thank you would have been more than sufficient. Margo leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and backed you up. “Yeah! Good thing you’ve got fast reflexes. That could’ve been bad.”</p><p>“That’s true, but you didn’t know what could have happened. You could have gotten hurt.” Reid pointed out with a small frown, taking a step back from your personal space.</p><p>“And if I did get hurt, and still helped you guys catch him, it would have been worth it.” You said bluntly.</p><p>Reid’s lips settled into a thin line, mildly annoyed. Of course you were stubborn. “I’m not sure if you would still be saying that if you knew what he had done.” He replied after a moment.</p><p>“What did he do?”</p><p>“He’s been travelling around this state to strangle women. There’s at least six victims that we know of, but we believe there could possibly be more.”</p><p>“That just reinforces what I said, Dr. Reid.”</p><p>“...Point proven. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could come downstairs to give a statement to the police. Eye witnesses of him purposefully avoiding arrest could help even more so to bulk up the case against him.”</p><p>“I’ll do it in exchange for a thank you.” You gave him a cheeky grin, and could almost feel Margo’s hard eyeroll from behind you.</p><p>Dr. Reid had to hold back a smile. “Thank you for your help, Ms. L/n. Please understand, I’m not ungrateful for your help, I just worry about others getting hurt.” He said honestly, and stepped into the hallway with a wave of his hand. “If you’ll follow me, please?”</p><p>“Go ahead, Y/n, I can finish bringing up the rest of our stuff. There’s only a few boxes left I think.” Margo told you, though you could see the tiredness in the slump of her shoulders.</p><p>Reid raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, you were moving in today? The elevator isn’t working, that means you both went up and down three flights of stairs!” He almost seemed to wince at the idea, but his face broke out in a small smile. “You know, since you helped us out today, I’m pretty sure I could convince Morgan or the SWAT guys to help you move the rest of your things up.”</p><p>“That would be awesome, since we kind of still have to bring up our couch.” Margo nearly swooned at the idea.</p><p>“Consider it done.” </p><p>You followed Dr. Reid downstairs and gave your statement to the local police, explaining how you had seen him hiding in the floor’s utility closet before he tried to run. Dr. Reid hovered nearby in the meantime, quietly explaining the situation to the man that seemed to be his team’s leader. Ever since your first lecture, you had done some research about the BAU, and the man with the stern brow and air of leadership looked to be Aaron Hotchner. He was intimidating, but not unkind as he came to say a brief thank you after the police walked away.</p><p>The sight of muscled SWAT men trying to carry a couch up the stairs was even more entertaining than you thought. You were ready to trek back up the stairs yourself before Reid caught up to you one last time.</p><p>“I just wanted to say thank you again,” The tall man said, taking a moment to look you in the eye. There was those nervous mannerisms again, and you couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing after seeing him so serious earlier, gun at the ready. “In case anything else ever happens, or we need to ask you for details again, um, here you go.” Reid handed you a business card with a number on it, and you pocketed it with a smile.</p><p>“Let’s hope nothing like that happens again. You know what they say, twice is a coincidence…”</p><p>“Three is a pattern, yeah.” He smiled at that, and you smiled back, mind quickly trying to figure out how you could give him your number in return. Before you could, Morgan called for them to leave, and Reid gave a small wave.</p><p>“Good night, Y/n.” “Good night, Dr. Reid.”</p><p>It wasn’t until you got back up to your cardboard box filled apartment that you realized the name embossed onto the business card wasn’t that of a Dr. Spencer Reid, but of an Aaron Hotchner.</p><p>“Just my luck."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>